ONTARIO — Pedro Guerrero’s eyes are still bright. His ear-to-ear smile holds the luminescence of a Dodger Stadium light bank. His 61-year-old skin has avoided any deep wrinkles, which knocks a good 10 years off his face. Guerrero looks good, and not just for a man reported to be dead 10 months ago.

Look closer and you see signs of a struggle. Guerrero’s close-cropped hair reveals a scar running north-south behind his right ear. He might need a hand standing up and sitting down on occasion. Then there is Guerrero’s memory, where the blank pages tell a story just as interesting as those you’ve already read – the four All-Star game appearances as a Dodger, the 1981 World Series co-MVP award, the folk tales of a hard-living hitting savant.

On the same day the Dodgers won their first of 104 games last year, Guerrero suffered a brain hemorrhage that nearly killed him. With his life in the balance, several former teammates went to New York to visit. His manager of 11 seasons, Tommy Lasorda, called to check in. His wife, Roxanna, did not leave his side for 19 days. The nurses had to coax her to shower in their bathroom.

Guerrero doesn’t remember these details. His brain, he realizes, still isn’t functioning at 100 percent.

“I know I’m going to die someday,” he said, a giant smile taking the edge off a grave thought. “I don’t want to die now. I don’t know how long I can survive, but I would like to do it for a long time. One thing that I know is, I’m going to go someday. We’re all going to go. Can’t just sit down and wait. Got to move around and do something.”

So it was that Guerrero flew to California on Tuesday to sign autographs. The physician who saved his life, Dr. Rafael Ortiz, gave his blessing. It was the first time Guerrero had flown since he came home last summer.

Ortiz is the chief of neuro-endovascular surgery and interventional neuro-radiology at Lenox Hill Hospital. Trusting him has been Roxanna’s reflex since 2015, when Pedro was treated at Lenox Hill for a stroke.

The night of April 3, 2017 was worse. Much worse.

“We were driving to the gym,” Roxanna recalled. “When we left the house, two blocks away, Pedro told me he felt a little pinch in his neck. He told me he was OK, that it had passed, then three blocks away his whole head started hurting. I took the wheel and drove home.

“My daughter called 9-1-1. We walked up to the second floor with no problem but later when (Pedro) came out of the bathroom he sat down and I couldn’t get him up. He went into a coma.”

An ambulance took him to a hospital nearby in Queens. Two or three hours later, Roxanna said, Pedro Guerrero was declared brain dead. She was given the option of disconnecting him from life support.

She called Dr. Ortiz instead.

“We didn’t talk until eight hours later because he was in brain surgery,” Roxanna Guerrero said.

Over the phone, Ortiz recommended a procedure to reduce the swelling in Guerrero’s brain. It left a scar but saved his life. Guerrero was still in a coma, on life support, when he was transferred the next day to Lenox Hill in Manhattan, Roxanna said.

In the intervening hours, word of Guerrero’s conditioned leaked to the press. One report claimed he was dead.

“I was very sick,” he said. “I was right there, man. But God doesn’t want me now. He don’t want me up there now. I’ve still got things to do.”

The recovery process was slow and bumpy. One day, Guerrero was awake and responding to commands. The next day, a setback. Eventually he was cleared to begin rehabilitation. Guerrero spent nearly three months in three different facilities before he was cleared to go home.

Guerrero is slower now. His recall is worse. But his signature grows more precious with each new chance at life. Fans who stood outside an Ontario memorabilia store were prepared to stand in line for two hours as the sun set, a bright smile waiting at the end of a dark parking lot.

“I still have a ways to go,” Guerrero said, “but I’m happy with my work that my people did, my doctors. Of course I just hope that I can get better and better every day.”